The celestial phenomena seemed to shift. Shuichi Akai looked slightly bewildered, tilting his head up at the sky. But the sky remained a gloomy, oppressive gray. Looking towards Innsmouth, the entire area seemed to carry an eerie, alien atmosphere.
Finally, following a vague, primal premonition, he looked towards a distant high mountain peak. It seemed as if a faint, solitary figure stood there in the distance.
'Baron Lionheart...' Akai thought. 'This generation's Baron Lionheart…'
A sigh seemed to echo directly in his ears. It was familiar. It was Mayor Philip.
Buzz————
In an instant, an invisible fluctuation spread out. Like an illusion, a waking dream. Before his eyes, in his ears, there was a surging sea. There was a forest swaying in a violent wind. There was a roaring volcano. And…
Thump... thump... thump...
Akai clutched his chest in a daze. And… the beating of a human heart? What was that…
"Hahn Cliff, the current Baron Lionheart. You are quite a lucky man, Mr. Akai."
In that instant, Akai felt as if his consciousness had been dragged to a desolate realm where he could hear no worldly sound, only able to communicate with the Deep One, Mayor Philip. Yet, he could clearly see the human warriors fighting desperately in the mud, and feel the anxious terror radiating from Howard and the others beside his physical body.
"Baron Lionheart? Is this what you monsters fear...?" Akai managed to project his thought.
"No, we are not afraid of Baron Lionheart. He is not scary. What is scary is Him..."
'What difference does it make?' Akai wanted to question the monster about its apocalyptic sins, but those bold words remained stuck in his throat.
He didn't dare. Even if he did, he only dared to direct his hatred at the mortal Black Organization.
'You said you wouldn't intervene…' Akai thought bitterly.
Yes. Akai had figured it out. The immortality, the resurrection, the rapid evolution, the biological infection—most of it had to be Innsmouth's direct doing. The Black Organization? It wasn't that he looked down on the syndicate, but if they were truly capable of engineering this level of flawless cosmic horror, they wouldn't still be hiding in the underground.
"Goodbye, lucky Mr. Akai…" Mayor Philip didn't seem inclined to explain further. The eerie voice faded, swallowed by the illusory crashing of deep-sea waves.
And then…
BWOOOOOOM————!!!
A deafening, mournful horn echoed throughout the entire battlefield! The sound stretched out, vast and ancient, rattling the bones of everyone present.
What was that sound? Whether on the blood-soaked front lines or watching from headquarters, people widened their eyes, trying to guess the truth.
'The watchtower…' Akai realized, looking into the fog. The ancient watchtower in the coastal town.
The sound carried a hidden, undeniable meaning. It was notifying ships on excursions to return. It was calling the sailors of the deep back home.
Akai took a few steps forward, his hands almost trembling. Could it be…
"Look!! They aren't coming back to life!!" a soldier screamed in disbelief.
"Kill them!! Kill them all!!"
"Hold the line!! We can actually kill them now!!"
Good! Very good! Tears of sheer relief welling up in his eyes were not enough to describe Akai's emotional state at this moment.
People were dead. So many people had died. The towns neighboring Innsmouth had all fallen to the horde. The soldiers constantly being sent into the meat grinder had suffered catastrophic losses. This was the true terror of an infectious, immortal monster that could adapt to anything...
If Baron Lionheart had arrived even a minute later, Akai's sanity would have completely collapsed.
"Push forward!!" Akai roared over the radio. "Eradicate them!!"
The Pentagon: The Situation Room
The President finally snapped out of his daze, his suit drenched in cold sweat.
Regardless of what supernatural intervention had just happened on the front lines, the remaining monsters were no longer so terrifying. As long as they weren't immortal and capable of adapting to ballistics, these flesh-and-blood abominations were practically just target practice for the full might of the US military. Now, only their infectivity was a major threat that humanity needed to carefully manage.
But the President no longer dared to provoke the utterly terrifying source of the outbreak: Innsmouth itself.
Anyone with a modicum of political and tactical sense could understand the reality of the situation. It wasn't that humanity had heroically held out until the monsters retreated; it was that Innsmouth had voluntarily lost all will to continue playing with humanity.
So, knowingly provoking a cosmic entity that had just mercifully decided to back down was simply courting extinction…
He saw Innsmouth's absolute arrogance and indifference, but no one in the room questioned it, and no one dared to demand human justice. The thousands who had died were mostly ordinary soldiers and civilians. To the monsters, it was an insignificant squabble. But recognizing the true terror of Innsmouth was enough for the government.
After all… so many of their most advanced national weapons and cruise missiles had remained completely immobilized and nullified mid-air, which was enough to prove exactly how hopelessly outmatched they were.
The Secretary of Defense quickly produced a national map and drew a heavy red circle around Innsmouth. Seemingly feeling it wasn't enough buffer space, he also included the several surrounding coastal towns where the fighting had spread.
He slid the map across the table to the President.
"A restricted area..." the Secretary of Defense said earnestly, his voice hoarse. "From this day forward, this territory is our restricted area."
"...You want to voluntarily divide and cede our own sovereign land?" a lower-ranking general tentatively raised an objection.
Almost everyone at the table stopped and stared intently at him. Those eyes... it was as if the general had just murdered their parents. It was a glare of irreconcilable hatred and terror, as if they wanted to physically tear him apart for suggesting they keep fighting.
In the past, ceding American soil wouldn't have even been a discussion. But now?
"Give it to them!!" The President barked, withdrawing his trembling hand from the map as if he had been burned.
His face was grim, wishing he could enlarge the red circle representing the "restricted area" even further. Just thinking about that misty town, entirely unmoved by their heaviest bombing, and the supernatural power of a single watchtower horn that allowed humanity to finally breathe a sigh of relief... it sent literal chills down his spine. Cold sweat poured down his back. Even his legs trembled beneath the desk.
Finally, he slumped into his leather chair, muttering to himself in a daze.
'What are they...? '
Perhaps... this wasn't something humanity should be trying to understand right now. But one day, they would have to face the dark future head-on.
"...Block all news about the forbidden area. Total media blackout," the President waved his hand weakly.
He knew exactly how many arrogant, inquisitive people in his country were prone to actively courting death. His own political suicide was one thing, but if some foolish investigative journalist or rogue general provoked the monsters into resurrecting and evolving again, the President would truly go mad...
FBI Headquarters: Washington D.C.
Sheriff Gray breathed a massive sigh of relief, wiping the cold sweat from his pale face. He watched the satellite surveillance footage with immense, bone-deep relief.
They had retreated. Or rather, the monsters that had emerged from the mist, having lost their divine ability to resurrect, were being systematically wiped out by the armed forces rushing the beach.
And most importantly, no more monsters emerged from the gray mist. All that remained was heavily quarantining and cleaning up the battlefield to prevent more people from being infected by the biomass.
However...
Grab.
Sheriff Gray's arm was suddenly seized. It was Director Joseph.
The Director stared at Gray, almost speechless, his eyes wide with a lingering, cosmic horror. The true "truth" of the battlefield was something rarely seen by secular men. But Joseph was one of the few who had just witnessed the anomaly on the tactical feeds.
That vast, illusory expanse that had briefly flashed over the monitors—the roaring volcanoes, the ancient forests, the deep sea, and the beating human heart—had almost shattered Joseph's worldview beyond repair.
He stared blankly at his old friend.
'Old friend…' Joseph thought, his lips trembling. 'How many terrifying things are you still hiding from me… And… what exactly are those things in the dark? What are they?'
Sheriff Gray merely managed a weak, exhausted smile. Offering no scientific or tactical answer, he instead made a quiet gesture of prayer, his hand clutching the silver cross at his chest.
Sheriff Gray's silent, faithful action sent absolute chills down Director Joseph's spine.
'God…'
Thump…
His legs finally gave way under the weight of the new reality, and the Director of the FBI collapsed heavily to his knees on the office floor, utterly powerless.